


So pull me under, and put me under your spell

by HeyCoyoteGirl



Category: Never Have I Ever (TV)
Genre: ADHD Paxton, F/M, Introspection, Mid-Canon, Soft Paxton, and becca lovingly dragging him, it doesn't come up but I've decided that this is my new hill to die on, literally just paxton thinking about how great devi is, no beta we die like non-honors students
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:15:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24309571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeyCoyoteGirl/pseuds/HeyCoyoteGirl
Summary: “Wow, you’re whipped.”Paxton realized he’d been absently brushing his fingers against his lips and quickly shoved his hand into his pocket. He opened his mouth to say something scathing, but Rebecca cut him off.Her expression softened as she asked, ”You really like her, huh?”Prompt fill: Paxton going home after the kiss and telling Becca about it.
Relationships: Paxton Hall-Yoshida/Devi Vishwakumar
Comments: 6
Kudos: 125





	So pull me under, and put me under your spell

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Talk About You by MIKA (this song is such a bop)
> 
> Not sure if I'm fully satisfied with Paxton's voice here, so constructive criticism is very welcome!

Paxton blinked, frowning at the garage door in front of him. He was home? A second ago, he’d been parked outside Devi’s, resisting the urge to pull her back in for another kiss, saying that he’d see her Monday. Had he really zoned out for the entire drive? Huh. That definitely wasn’t safe. But he’d made it back in one piece, so no harm, no foul, right?

It was a good thing he wasn’t Trent’s designated driver tonight. Going back to that party—with people who _laughed and pointed_ when Devi fell into the pool—was the last thing he wanted to do right now. If he was honest with himself, the main thing he wanted to do was hang out with Devi again. Seeing as that was logistically impossible at the moment, he’d settle for just going to bed. Getting dragged into other people’s fights was surprisingly tiring.

(And what the hell was with that implication that Paxton wasn’t one of Devi’s real friends? What, just because he was popular, he couldn’t have genuine friendships? Incredibly bad take. He’d never _asked_ to be popular. Honestly, being popular sucked sometimes. Like when Trent had brought his three— _three!_ —fan tumblrs to his attention, and he’d had to simultaneously process the fact that they even existed _and_ deal with his friend ribbing him. Or when people made up weird rumors about him. Sure, it wasn’t all bad. The tumblrs were remarkably thorough about tracking his times, so that was pretty useful. And he’d seen edits of himself as Aquaman and Percy Jackson, which was equal parts cool and disturbing. And— He’s getting off track. The point is, it’s not his fault that he's popular, and he’s fully capable of having real friends, thank you very much, Devi’s-friend-whose-name-he’s-forgotten.)

Paxton moved to unbuckle his seatbelt— Oh. Devi’d forgotten her dress. He grabbed it; chlorine could discolor fabric, and it’d suck if her dress got damaged on top of everything else that had happened tonight. He’d ruined his fair share of shirts over the years. Someday, he would remember to actually bring a towel every time he had swim practice. (That was almost certainly incorrect, but it’s good to have aspirations in life.)

The house was dark and quiet when he unlocked the door, and he made his way to the bathroom by feel, nearly tripping over the cat twice but only stubbing his toe once. All in all, a rousing success. He flicked on the light—squinting as it burned directly into his retinas—and turned on the tap to rinse Devi’s dress. It was a really pretty dress. Had he told her that she looked pretty tonight? (Sure, he’d only seen her for a minute before she fell into the pool, but she _had_ looked good. She was always pretty.) He should text her.

He was halfway through entering his passcode when Rebecca spoke from behind him, and he startled so badly that he nearly threw his phone through the window. He carefully set it down on the counter and shot her a glare. “Jesus, Becca. Are you trying to kill me?”

She giggled, utterly unsympathetic to his plight. “All I did was say your name. I didn’t realize you would flip.”

“You snuck up on me on purpose, and you know it. What’re you doing up so late, anyway? Don’t you have work in the morning?” Paxton glanced down at the dress in the sink. All the chlorine should be rinsed out by now, right? He flipped it over for good measure.

“Yeah, I just woke up to grab a— Don’t twist it!”

Paxton sheepishly pulled his hands away from the dress. “No?”

Rebecca scoffed. _Rude._ “You’ll damage the fibers.” She shooed him out of the way— _double rude_ —and started gently squeezing the water out. “Whose dress is this, anyway?”

“Devi’s.” He pressed his lips together to stop himself from grinning. His stomach was fluttering at the thought of the kiss. Which was absurd. He was Paxton Hall-Yoshida. He’d been going to prom since seventh grade. He didn’t get gooey over a _single kiss_.

(Apparently, a single kiss with _Devi_ was the exception. He shouldn’t be surprised; she somehow always managed to turn his expectations on their head.)

“Why are you washing Devi’s dress in the sink? Why do you even have it?”

“Oh. I had to rescue her at a party, again. She spilled punch on one of her friends, got into a fight, said, ‘I know exactly where I am,’ and then stepped backwards and fell into the pool. I gave her a change of clothes and a ride home, and she forgot her dress in my car.”

Rebecca closed her eyes for a moment to process that, which was fair. He was starting to become immune to Devi-weirdness at this point. But, objectively speaking, the evening had been pretty wild. Or, at least, the end had been pretty wild. The beginning and middle parts were honestly a bit boring, but that _definitely_ didn’t have anything to do with the fact that Paxton had been unable to find Devi. It was just a bad party with a truly unsettling cake, okay?

...Fine. Paxton could admit it: The party had sucked until Devi showed up. And then it still sucked—in a totally different way—because her friends were yelling at her. (Or not-yelling, in Eleanor’s case. And he had absolutely _no_ idea what was going on there, but the last time they’d talked, she’d shouted that he was racist, so, whatever. Not getting involved in _that_ Devi-adjacent drama. He’ll stick to the Devi-direct drama, if it’s all the same to you.)

“Maybe Devi shouldn’t go to parties anymore,” Rebecca said, shooting him a bemused look in the mirror. “First a coyote attack and now falling into a pool? That’s some pretty bad luck.”

Paxton snorted. Like anyone was capable of talking Devi down when she’d set her mind on something. She was the dictionary definition of an unstoppable force. She hadn’t even been invited to Trent’s party, technically speaking, and she’d still showed up and caused chaos. Plus, “I may be reinforcing her bad habits.”

Rebecca raised her eyebrows, silently urging him to continue.

“I kissed her,” Paxton admitted, voice soft, and this time, he was unable to keep the grin off his face.

Rebecca spun around, lighting up at the confession. “Really?!”

“Yeah.” Giddiness bubbled through him. The kiss had honestly caught him by surprise. Well, that wasn’t quite right. He’d felt the anticipation growing during the drive. The stolen glances and fidgeting hands. He’d just expected one of them ( _both_ of them) to chicken out.

But then Devi had looked so _sad_ , as lost as Eleanor claimed she was. And _then_ , she was apologizing. Apologizing for being vulnerable, for taking up space, for having _emotions_. She always did that, always dismissed her feelings as weird or crazy. And suddenly, he couldn’t stand it. She’d fallen into the pool, and her best friends, the people she’d grown up with, had just walked away, hadn’t even bothered to check if she was okay. Of course she felt like they were done with her. Paxton may not be one of her “real” friends, but _he_ wasn’t done with her. And while he may not be great with words, he needed to let her know that he still cared. So he’d kissed her.

(And then, of course, he’d been hit by a tidal wave of nerves. Because he hadn’t _asked_ if he could kiss her. Sure, she’d propositioned him and said she was into him, but that was before they were friends, back when Paxton was just a pretty face and Devi was just the no-longer-wheelchair-bound girl whose dad died at a school event. Sure, she’d kissed him back, but maybe that was just instinct. Maybe she didn’t feel that way anymore and he’d ruined everything and she’d never speak to him again, which would mean that she really _had_ lost everyone— And then she accidentally thanked him for the kiss, endearingly awkward and adorable, and the nerves were gone, replaced by butterflies in his stomach as he smiled back at her.)

“Wow, you’re whipped.”

Paxton realized he’d been absently brushing his fingers against his lips and quickly shoved his hand into his pocket. He opened his mouth to say something _scathing_ , but Rebecca cut him off. (Which was for the best. He’d probably have just whined her name or something equally embarrassing.)

Her expression softened as she asked, ”You really like her, huh?”

He nodded silently for a moment, heart caught in his throat. His voice, when he found it, was quiet. “Yeah, I really like her, Rebecca.” The words felt too big, too important to just say aloud. They were a revelation. Something awe inspiring. (And honestly, kind of terrifying.)

“I’m really happy for you,” she said, pulling him into a hug. “When are you seeing her?”

And just like that, he deflated, the wind taken out of his sails. He’d been excited for the weekend, a break from the never-ending workload of school. But now, having to wait two full days to see Devi again? It felt like torture. “Ugh. I said I’d see her on _Monday_. I’m an idiot.”

Becca scowled and snapped, “No, you’re not.” She paused for a moment, taking a deep breath. “Look, she forgot her dress in your car, right? Why don’t you text her about returning it?”

Paxton perked up and automatically reached for his phone. God, Becca had the best advice. He could return Devi’s dress, and they could hang out. (And maybe kiss again, if he was lucky. Though, he was perfectly fine taking things slow. She’d already had a lot going on before this new friend drama. He was more than willing to wait for her. To let her take the lead. Unless that meant her trying to proposition him again, because she was _definitely_ not ready to take that step.)

He stopped short as Rebecca said, tone exasperated, “Not _now_. It’s the middle of the night. I meant in the morning.”

“Right.” Paxton could feel himself blushing. ( _Blushing._ What had Devi _done_ to him?) “Of course. I knew that.”

“Sure, you did.” She yawned, and Paxton was suddenly guiltily aware of how late it was. “I should get back to bed. Hang that dress up so that it dries by tomorrow and doesn’t wrinkle. And I expected updates when I get home.”

Paxton agreed, though he rolled his eyes for show. Normally, he found her prying into his love life annoying, but this time, he honestly didn’t mind. Something about this felt different than normal. Something about _Devi_ felt different than anyone he’d been with before.

…Well, it was too late at night to deal with _that_ particular train of thought, so Paxton grabbed Devi’s dress and headed to his room. He slipped it onto a hanger and set an alarm for bright and early. The party might have been a bust, but this weekend was just getting started, and—fingers crossed—it was going to be _amazing_.


End file.
